


It all began with a bra

by ChocoNut



Series: Modern JB love [52]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Friends to Lovers, JBWeek2020, Misunderstandings, Roommates, jealous brienne, naughty ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:49:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26714002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: On Valentine's day, Brienne comes to overhear that Jaime has gifted Cersei a bra.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Modern JB love [52]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557871
Comments: 25
Kudos: 98
Collections: Jaime x Brienne Week 2020





	It all began with a bra

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt "Envy" I choose Jealous!Brienne ;)

The hushed voices from inside the room told her to watch her step and stay on her side of the door, and Brienne lurked around, quiet as a mouse.

“I saw her bragging about it to her friends. _‘With lots of love from Jaime’,_ it said on the card, it seems,” Margaery was explaining in a disapproving tone. “I thought he was done with Cersei, but this—” Brienne could make out a deep sigh, then a click of tongue.

 _Cersei._ Did she get that right? From this distance and the other side of a strong wooden barrier, it was quite possible to mishear things.

“What did he give her?” Sansa’s voice floated across.

Brienne pressed her ear harder against the smooth surface, straining to catch every bit of the conversation.

“Umm—” there was an edge of hesitation at Margaery’s end.

“Come on, you can tell me,” Sansa nudged her in her best persuasive tone.

“A bra,” Margaery revealed, scandalized. “Isn’t it too much?” She lowered her voice a bit, and Brienne had to ease down her breathing so it wouldn’t hamper her hearing. “I mean, which man gifts a woman lingerie unless he wants to be really intimate with her?”

“Jaime and Cersei!” Sansa exclaimed in a stricken tone. “ _Jaime and Cersei?_ Seriously?”

This—this felt like someone had dropped a ton of iron down her throat, all of it lodged in her chest, crushing her breathless. She stepped away from the door, cursing herself for mistaking Jaime’s intentions over the past few days. Her hopes had risen to the power of infinity when he’d taken to spending most of his time with her, laughing and joking with her, flirting even, whenever presented with an opportunity. That they were roommates made him even more easy going, with the two of them spending most weekends curled up on the sofa enjoying a bunch of movies and each other’s company. He’d almost hinted he wanted her to be his Valentine this time—just shy of putting his intention to words. Actually asking her out was the only thing he’d not done yet.

_A bra._

Brienne began walking away, lost, thoroughly disappointed. _Blue is a good colour on you_ , he had, only a couple of days back, admiringly complimented her. And now—

_A fucking bra._

How the hell did he get her measurements right? Granted they were once a couple, but which man remembered his girlfriend’s bra size well enough to get her an expensive one this long after they’d broken up? The thought of him _examining_ her to gauge the fitting gave rise to an annoying throbbing in her temples. Before she was gone more than a few paces, Brienne found herself wishing it was two sizes smaller, began picturing what it might be like if Cersei could somehow manage to strangle herself with the straps.

Some solace, these ominous visions brought her—just a slim thread of it. The uncomfortable choking sensation returned to bother her when something else struck her. What did Jaime mean to do once his ex had obliged him and tried out his sexy gift? It had to mean only one thing, the night ending with him ripping away the wretched thing off her and—

“Watch where you’re going, wench!”

One look at his face, and her rage multiplied to an extent that made her want to punch him in the balls. “It’s you,” she greeted him icily. “I’m surprised you’re still in office.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Jaime looked like he had nothing at all up his sleeve and it would’ve been pretty normal if she’d not overheard that horrid information her friends had exchanged. “There’s still time for the party. And since we’re all going together—”

She watched him carefully, then measuring her words, asked, “Is Cersei coming?”

The question did nothing to shake him. “Yeah, she's part of the group, right—”

“I’m going home,” she dismissed him shortly. She’d heard all she wanted to. She wasn’t interested in listening to him mooning over her. “And you have good fun with your pretty girlfriend—”

“Girlfriend—” open mouthed, he pretended to be clueless “—Brienne, what—”

Before he could speak further, she took off, feeling cheated. But more than that she felt a dullness she was worried would never leave her.

But of course, the world was like this. Men always buzzed around pretty dolls like Cersei. Who would want to go out with an ugly wench like her?

+++++

After hours (that felt like days) of staring at blank walls, Brienne’s mood perked up a bit when she heard the door click open. It had to be him. Of course, Sansa had a key, but why would she… But it didn’t make sense to get her hopes too high either. It was only 9 p.m, and there was now way he could’ve—

“Wench.”

“Back so soon?” she asked, trying to assume the most casual tone she could summon. “I thought you’d be out to spend the night with her—”

“Her?”

She scoffed. He was putting on a pretty good show of hiding his mind. A Lannister never shied away from going to any lengths to save his skin. A Lannister always covered his tracks. A Lannister was very very good at lying convincingly. 

Probably. 

“What is it with you, though?” He crossed the breadth of the room to take a seat beside her. “Why have you been acting strange since evening?”

She could sense an oncoming headache, and not desirous of an argument that’d ruin her night further, she got up. “I’m going to bed.”

He was on his feet and in an equally tetchy mood. “Not before you tell me what’s going on.”

She barged into her bedroom, but before she could shut him out, he slipped in. Hands on his hips, he parried her irritation with a bemused look. “Alright,” he exhaled, “out with it. What the hell’s wrong with you today? And why did you stay away from the party?”

“You bought a bra, I suppose,” Brienne gushed out crudely before she could format her inquiry to words appropriate to the delicate nature of the context.

“How—” The tips of his ears had turned the shade of tomatoes and he looked like a little boy caught red-handed playing mischief. “How did you get wind of it?”

“Sansa and Margaery,” she growled, her blood boiling when she pictured him fondly caressing the lace hugging her skin.

“They couldn’t have known.” He shook his head in vigorous disbelief. “It’s impossible—”

“Women talk, Jaime,” she hissed angrily. A part of her had hoped he’d deny it, that what she’d overheard was nothing but her friends’ misunderstanding. “They discuss stuff like this. By now the whole office is probably talking about what colour and pattern you chose for her.”

The annoying curtain of surprise was back in his eyes. “Her?” 

“Cersei, of course,” she clarified, biting the inside of her cheek. 

He ran his fingers wildly through his hair, then took to pacing around like a caged lion for a few seconds. “Hang on a sec—” 

He was out of the room before she could ask him why and back within the blink of an eye. “I presume this—” he handed her an attractively wrapped box “—is what you’ve been going on about?”

She frowned at the gift. “You haven’t given it to her yet?” 

“Why would I do that when it’s intended for you?” Assuming she’d misheard, Brienne looked up to find him rushing his fingers through his hair, as if pondering whether to go on or not. “I—I’ve been meaning to give this to you for a while but I thought—” he broke into a smile that bordered on sheepish and impossibly sexy “—it might be too bold for our first date.”

Muted into surprise, she found her tongue after a few seconds of ringing silence. “Our date?”

“I was going to ask you after the party. But you never gave me a chance. You just assumed the worst.”

“I thought you were planning a passionate night with Cersei,” she mumbled, wanting to kick herself for complicating things in her head.

“Women don’t _always_ get all the facts right, wench,” he pointed out, his hand trailing down her arm. “But this—I suppose, this was hatched behind our backs. A plan Sansa and Margaery had woven. You were meant to eavesdrop on them.”

Her breath caught in her chest again. For a different reason, of course, this time, the green eyes drilling into hers, killing her sanity. “But why?”

“Let me guess.” His fingertips danced their way across to the back of her neck leaving goosebumps all over. He wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled her close. “Maybe they intended for both of us to skip the party and stay home. Sansa and Margaery can be like that at times—” he lowered his voice to a husky note “— _wicked._ ”

He let his hand wander, kissing, stroking her bare skin. When his gaze fell to her lips, the air between them was so thick with tension, she couldn’t help biting her cheek again. Her nipples spiked into her blouse, raging against her bra, aching to burst out of their confinement and into his hands. Her skin erupted in goosebumps wherever they met his. “I’m sure they meant well,” he added in a husky voice that made her press her legs together.

“Why does that mean?” she croaked, her arousal, burning wet, throbbing to the crazy rhythm of her heartbeat.

“Maybe they did know I bought you this—” his eyes flickered further down to her breasts “—and perhaps, they also guessed I was in two minds whether or not to give this to you tonight.” His intensely piercing eyes were locked on her, penetrating to corners of her that sparked alive. “Open it, Brienne.”

Trembling fingers scarcely co-operating, she tore away the wrapping and opened the box. “Blue is a good colour on you,” he hoarsely complimented, when she ran her fingers along the exquisite lace. “Goes well with your eyes.”

Sexy and strapless, it would barely conceal anything—she could feel the anticipation beating between her legs. She could sense what was coming. She hadn’t done something like this before and she found herself craving it. She craved him. Like desperately.

“Do you like it?”

She nodded, swallowing hard. She couldn’t still help feeling a bit foolish for jumping into unnecessary conclusions. “Does this mean we’re—” she didn’t have to finish. The heat in his eyes, the air between them, thick with his intent was her answer.

“There was no reason for you to be jealous, Brienne,” he breathed against her earlobe. “No—” he tugged at it gently “—fuckin’ reason—” he began kissing her face, down the delicate skin beneath her ear and across her cheek “—at all.” 

By the time he’d made it to her lips, she had lost it. His lips were soft, and pliant under him, she melded perfectly with him. And fuck, did he taste good! With a little moan, he went further, his tongue, the hardness of his chest against her womanly curves shooting several bolts of pleasure and pain through all of her, jamming her senses to everything but him.

_Sweat. Aftershave. Man..._

That was Jaime. And he was going to be the death of her tonight.

It was one of those searing kisses that made her go weak in the knees. She found it hard to still herself. It felt like his mouth was making burning hot love to hers. 

They had to pull apart after a while, both of them breathless. 

“Why don’t we try it out, hmm?” he suggested, his hand finding its way under her blouse to unhook her bra. He started to knead and fondle her breasts, his mouth lazily chalking out a path along her jawline with sizzling hot kisses. “Why don’t we—” He worked his way to her neck, and when he pressed his teeth into her soft skin, she let out a yelp she hoped wasn’t too loud. “Why don’t we find out if I got your measurements right or not?”

Her nipples came alive in his fingers, all the pinching and prodding shooting straight down to where it mattered. “And what happens after that?”

Jaime undid the first button on her blouse, then the second. “After that—” he pressed closer, grinding his erection against her hips “—I’m going to rip it off you.”

**Author's Note:**

> A silly little misunderstanding. Thank you for reading and I hope you liked it :)


End file.
